


A gift for no one

by canttakethecanon



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Art, Casual Relationships - Freeform, Drinking, Eventual Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Frottage, Full of it!Smaug, Jaded!Bilbo, Jewelry, Light Smut, Loss of inhibition, M/M, Smoking, Strained Relationships, Thilbo, bagginshield, mid life crisis, modern!AU, romantic!Thorin, smaugbo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-21 13:12:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3693536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canttakethecanon/pseuds/canttakethecanon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo is a man who's had a good life. He raised his nephew the best he can, he's honed his craft enough to sustain himself and life is a comfortable routine he's happily settled into. Then Gandalf commissions a special creation from him, a piece to answer the question; What would you give a lover to show your love for them?</p><p>The only problem is Bilbo has never bothered with 'lovers', so he's going to need a new, uncomfortable perspective if he's ever going to complete the project. Which may or may not lead to a rather horrifying realization that there are *a lot* of things he hasn't bothered with before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A good question

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is not interested, but Gandalf decides he should be.

Bilbo stared at the old man.

He had to stoop to see in the little tent's opening, absurdly tall as he was. His exceptionally long beard flitted slightly in the warm summer breeze.

"...My _lover_?" the word rolled off his tongue the way all outdated and over fanciful words did, leaving an odd taste behind. He snorted, focusing once more on the complicated magnifying contraption he had been peering through. " I think we both know I'm not the best candidate for that project, you old sap." The tiny, intricate lines of scales were taking form on the impossibly small carving of a dragon as he chipped slowly with his blade.

He had been a bachelor all of his 40 years on this earth, only partners of convenience breaking his self imposed exile from the world of poor decisions and sleepless nights. He had no regrets on the matter, of course. His nephew, his craft, his sense of independence, all very important things that had assured his life with no hand to hold his own was not at all a lacking one. He could hear his guest smiling when he spoke.

" Love is something we all have within us at all times, my dear friend. Whether or not we have an object with which to concentrate it on is beside the point." Bilbo clucked his tongue disapprovingly.

" There you go again; waxing poetic with your romantics to the point of ignorance." He flicked his gaze to the man for a fraction of a second, " If you'd remember, I have an object to focus on, as I've had for many years now. I believe he has your affections, too." He was referring, of course, to his darling nephew who was wandering aimlessly through the stalls as they spoke, likely scoping out the competition and charming the lovely ladies working the lemonade stall. The old man huffed.

" The love of family, however powerful, is not as artistically potent as that of a lover and you know it." He produced a short, lovingly crafted pipe and a small bag of tobacco from within his suit jacket, working to pack the tiny thing. " Anyways, I have no interest in arguing the point. I have come to commission a piece for an exhibit and there are precious few I can turn to for the particular theme and expect anything meaningful."

Bilbo sighed and put down his wyrm, having stopped chipping away at it some time ago. His old swivel chair creaked with age and abuse as he leaned back to regard the old man with no small amount of exasperation.

" You want a piece I would give to a lover?" he repeated, a wide grin spreading across the wrinkled face almost instantly at his suggested surrender. Bilbo's hand shot up immediately, wagging a finger at him. " N-No! Nonono, Gandalf, I am not agreeing to anything yet! I'm just clarifying your request..." The grin did not lessen in the slightest.

" Of course not, you are not a man to take on anything lightly." Gandalf said soothingly. The tone was a little too close to condescending in Bilbo's opinion, but he merely glowered at the old codger, reassuring himself that he was not pouting. " I want you to create a piece of jewelry for me that you would give to a lover. Specifically you to someone you would want to know how very deeply you loved them."

Bilbo listened carefully and began to swirl the prompt in his head like he would leaves in his tea. Something he would do, specifically himself for someone whom meant more to him than anyone had thus far. He frowned.

" I can't honestly say I have any ideas, Gandalf." he said with a small shrug, " There isn't much I haven't already done. I've made many pieces for people hoping to win a heart or two and none of them were particularly great work in my honest opinion."

He was no fool and his pride no bubble. He never did his best work when the odd bloke came in asking him to make something special for someone special. Half the time they never came back to pick up there piece. The other half the time the love displayed when the prize was delivered seemed oddly lacking to him. Almost fabricated, or one sided. As such he wasted no real effort on the pieces and instead focused on things his nephew inspired him to do. Those things always shown his love and skill of the craft more than any half-assed bobble with a heart on it.

Gandalf lit his pipe and puffed thoughtfully. He was not at all surprised at the shorter man's resistance. Matters of the heart were not Bilbo's specialty. He distinctly remembered a conversation they had ages ago where Bilbo spoke of romance with such casual disdain he'd attributed being late for dinner a greater offense than knowing no stirring within his heart. Gandalf knew exactly where this disdain came from and what kept the man so tightly wound in his cocoon of disinterest. He puffed, but avoided bringing it up.

" You've never been in the position to consider such a gift before. Given some time, I imagine you'd know exactly what would show your devotion as only someone madly in love would wont to do. I dare say it might be good for you to leave that comfort zone you stick to so stubbornly. No great work of art was made with the same inspiration all lesser works before it were." Bilbo snorted again, but did not say anything. That niggling sensation in the back of his head was back. The one that told him Gandalf had a point and he was being fussy for no reason. He hated that feeling.

" When do you need it?" he asked carefully, watching Gandalf puff out a smoke ring. Gandalf smiled.

" I will need it by the end of October." Roughly three months between now and then. Bilbo made a face.

" That's an awfully long time. I'm sure you could find someone else to give you your "heartfelt" exhibit." Gandalf grunted lightly in frustration and furrowed his brow.

" Bilbo Baggin's, you have not been listening! I need many things from many different artists of many different mediums. This is not simply a jewelry display; this is a collection of souls, an exhibit of something deeper than paint and wood shavings." He stuck his pipe in his mouth, " Art is beyond simple thought brought into life; it is the rhythm of your heartbeat woven into tangible existence." He puffed, " You and I both know that your greatest work is that which comes from your heart, whether sparked by love of family or otherwise. I ask you and all other artists to give me a piece with which the world may know what makes your love so tangible through skill and how you would prove your heart needed another person as desperately as you need your craft. I hardly think such a request should be taken so lightly and with such vehement disdain."

Bilbo felt very small in his tent, feeling his cheeks pinken just a tad at the scolding.

" Your heart has gone unexamined for far too long, Bilbo. I think perhaps a little time to consider how you would show it to another will give you the look it desperately needs." Gandalf's tone was soft and his eyes betrayed a gentle concern. After a moment of tense silence, Bilbo cleared his throat.

" Two months," he said, defeated, " If I can come up with something in two months, I'll do it, but if I can't, you'll still have time to find someone to replace me, and you will replace me, you hear?" the last part had him wagging his finger at his friend again. Gandalf positively beamed.

" Splendid! I know you won't let me down, dear boy." Bilbo grumbled something about being forty and therefore nothing like a boy, but Gandalf ignored him. " Well, that's settled. Now, I feel after this discussion I am quite wanting for something obnoxiously sweet and refreshing. I think I shall join Frodo at the Lemonade stand. Shall I have him bring you something?" Bilbo shook his head and waved him off, going back to his work on the dragon. Gandalf left him to it, humming a happy tune to himself.

He held the knife and the dragon in his hands for a long while, but his eyes saw nothing in front of him, staring blankly off into space. He hadn't actually asked nearly the amount of important questions he should have. He wasn't even clear if Gandalf had actually commissioned him, or was just wanting to display his work. Dropping the blade, he ran a hand through his curls as the heaviest question weighed on his mind.

What the hell does one give a love interest they don't actually _have_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah. Haven't written in ages and needed to write for this fandom cause I'll be damned if it hasn't consumed me completely. Couldn't tell you where this was going if I tried, though I at least have an ending in mind, so lets fill in the blanks together, hmm?


	2. Breakfast with...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frodo prods, Tauriel spies and Bilbo is sick of hearts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before we begin folks, a couple things: 
> 
> 1\. The positive feedback has left me teary eyed. Seriously, I've never gotten such a warm response on my writings and it means the world to me. Thank you, all of you, but especially Fluxy, my first commenter. ~<3
> 
> 2\. These chapters are unbetaed. I will probably review them all and run them past a beta before the fourth chapter, but for now they are what they are.
> 
> 3\. The tags will likely be updating as I figure out what I'm doing, so keep your eyes peeled. I did update them with the posting of this chapter, so look alive!
> 
> Thank you all again and I hope you enjoy the second chapter!

" You could always try dating."

The look on his uncles face when the words left his mouth was truly priceless. He sputtered, nearly dropping his watering can.

" I hardly think 'dating' would help with this, Frodo." Frodo took a bite of his apple, not looking away from Bilbo's reddening face.

" I think most people would argue with that, Uncle."

" Yes, well most people know as much about love as a I know about Her Majesty's knicker's." Frodo choked, struggling not to let the laughter in his throat push apple out his nose.

This was a fairly standard argument between the two of them, the whole process in general a routine they'd been practicing for ages. Frodo would sit on the kitchen counter(" At least keep your grubby feet off it!") and watch Bilbo putter about doing whatever. The variation today was watering the garden he had moved inside for the winter. The large amount of pots of all shapes and sizes held everything from an extensive herb collection to an oak sapling they were planting next year. He would then listen to his Uncle's grumblings about this or that and offer pointed guidance that usually ended with his Uncle coming up with a colorful way of telling him he was daft.

" Well, the Queen's knicker's coming up is my cue to leave, but I'm serious Uncle." he hopped down, tossing the apple core around as he spoke, " People do things the way they do them for a reason. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to do as the Romans do?" He turned and left before his Uncle could reply, which was just as well. Bilbo didn't have anything to say to that.

With the garden properly watered and Frodo out doing whatever he did when he wasn't prodding him, Bilbo laid out in his easy chair with a cup of tea and began to think.

It had been two weeks since Gandalf had come to him. Two weeks since he had accepted the request to make a special, sentimental piece for an exhibit, and if the mound of scrapped concepts on his desk was anything to go by, it wasn't going very well. He had told Gandalf he would give it two months, but two weeks was already proving to be too much time wasted on what was looking to be a hopeless effort.

It wasn't that Bilbo didn't think love was beautiful or nonexistent, of course. It was a dazzling, borderline indescribable thing. Granted, it was partly indescribable because he'd never had to deal with the confusing business before, but he could recognize the value of something even if he didn't own it. The real death was in the details, so to speak.

_" I want you to create a piece of jewelry for me that you would give to a lover. Specifically you to someone you would want to know how very deeply you loved them."_

Something he personally would give. _Him_. He snorted aloud and sipped his tea.

It had felt very awkward, sketching out concepts for something like this. His idea's had ranged from straightforward, like an engraved golden band, to more abstract concepts like a carved wooden face replacing a cross in a rosary. He accepted that he was probably over thinking it all, but honestly, who could blame him? This was not his field and his points of reference were dismally few and rather depressing.

He swam around in his own head for some kind of answer that didn't involve any soul searching nonsense or having to endure the presence of some other poor bastard until he began to doze off.

' You could always ask your mother...' a tiny voice whispered in his mind. He could feel his nose crinkle. He had only gotten on speaking terms with his mother a year ago. He hardly wanted her input on anything, let alone something so infuriatingly personal. ' Better her than your father...'

When his eyes opened again, the living room was dark. The evening sun that had been filtering in through the windows set long ago, leaving him with only a little light from the hallway to see. He started to get up with a groan, his joints popping and muscles protesting at having fallen asleep sitting up.

“ Oh, god I’m ooooooold....” he moaned to the empty room, stretching high up onto his tip toes. He picked up his stone cold tea and shuffled to the kitchen. The dishes in the sink indicated Frodo had made himself something to eat and was probably camping in his room with his headphones on. He was a good lad. Always picked up after himself, always home at a reasonable hour. The boy had a taste for adventure, but no truly wild streak and he was thankful for that. He could hardly believe the boy was practically grown. He didn't want to think about seeing him off this fall.

Frodo had gotten into RU* and was preparing to attend this fall. He was even getting an apartment with his friends. Sam, Merry and Pippin, he thought. Frodo had so many friends it was hard to keep them all straight in his head. He wasn't like Bilbo in that sense. He attracted people, always charming and friendly to everyone he met.

He would be far away for the first time since his parents were alive. Rivendell was on the opposite side of Erebor, which was already a half hour from Hobbiton. It would be nearly a three hour drive time between them...

Bilbo rinsed his mug and shuffled down the hall to his room. He felt weighted down. Groggy and depressed. It was best to just go back to sleep. Yes. He would feel better in the morning.

As he pulled up the covers and felt Myrtle leap up to curl around his feet, he tried not to think of how empty his home would be without Frodo.

  
~{-}~

  
The sun rose the next day on the old brick building. Frodo looked at it from the drivers seat of his car and drummed his fingers in time with the song on the radio. His Uncle always took forever to be ready, but Frodo didn't mind. Gave him time to listen to the music he liked before his Uncle insisted on something classical, or worse; Something from the 70s.

Myrtle darted across the yard, chasing some poor rabbit with gusto. The sandy colored Persian was out of sight before Frodo could even laugh. For such a lazy, docile cat, she had no tolerance for rabbits.

" Alright then, lets go." Bilbo dropped his bag into the back seat through the open window. He got in the car and prodded Frodo's shoulder sharply. " Seatbelt, and turn off that bloody electronic mess." He ignored Frodo's mutter of "dubstep" as they backed out of the driveway.

They were running errands today. Groceries, library, craft store, all the necessities. Or at least Bilbo was.

" I'm gonna go spend the day with Sam after I drop you off. He said he found a cool place downtown we should check out." Bilbo just nodded, ignoring the disappointment in his chest. He had half hoped Frodo might be interested in joining him for a quick second breakfast at his favorite cafe, but of course he had his own plans.

The car ride passed in silence until Frodo was parked next to the meter in the shopping district. Bilbo got his bag from the back, patted Frodo's cheek affectionately and got out. Frodo was gone before he got to the door of the cafe.

The bell announced his entrance, though it was almost drowned in the warm chatter of the usual breakfast crowd. His favorite barista waved at him from behind the bakery case.

" Good morning, Bilbo." She said, already setting to work steaming his milk. He eyed the beautiful croissants in the case, deciding his usual berry tart could use some company on his plate.

" Good morning, Tauriel Love." he called, trying to decide between blueberry and raspberry, " I'll have the usual with some irish creme if you please."

" With or without liquor?" she winked at him with a sweet smile. Tauriel had been his barista for nearly four years now. The cafe had always been good, but the drinks she made may as well have been liquid magic. It certainly helped that she was incredibly beautiful, with lovely red hair always braided in some intricate way. Today she had it up, a ring of braids all around her head twisting up into a deceptively messy bun he was sure she spent hours on.

In no time at all he had his plate of delicacies and a cappuccino with a lovely little heart in the foam. He grimaced at it in spite of himself, but he would not let his own little troubles make Tauriel think she had been anything less than perfect. He really didn't want to think about hearts...

" With a look like that, maybe I should go to another cafe." Bilbo nearly dropped his plate when the person he had been passing spoke. The sharply dressed man smiled down at him and Bilbo tried to ignore the amusement on his face at having clearly startled him. He cleared his throat.

" I beg your pardon?" He wanted to roll his eyes at the way his voice wavered. A soft murmur of a laugh sounded from the man's throat, not quite making it out of his mouth.

" Your drink seems to have offended you. I've never been here before, so I thought it might be a sign I shouldn't waste my money." The man's voice was smooth and made Bilbo feel uncomfortably warm. He was suddenly acutely aware of his brown cardigan and the white collared shirt under it. Why, oh why did he dress in so many layers?

" Oh, not at all. I tend to make faces when I'm thinking, I'm afraid. No, Tauriel back there makes the best everything. There is no finer place in all of Hobbiton for a good cup of something warm and a plate of something fresh. Except perhaps my own kitchen, but I specialize in tea and I just haven't the time for real croissants these days." He found himself rambling just a tad, his cheeks burning at the way the man stared at him. He was rather handsome, he admitted, his face all angles and eyes sharper than a tack. His hair was perfectly combed and unnaturally shaded a very dark red, matching his silk tie. He wondered what anyone had any business doing with eyes the color of honey.

" In that case, I think I'll have to try something. You're clearly the expert." a little condescending edge snuck into his tone, but he was smiling at Bilbo open mouthed now, showing off perfect teeth. " Might I join you? I do think you're exactly the kind of person I could spend a morning with." Bilbo felt the burn on his face reach passed his hairline to the tips of his ears. ' Well, that was forward.'

" Um, I...Uh-" he stammered a bit, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth, " Well, I suppose I wouldn't mind-"

" Splendid. You choose a seat; I'll join you in a moment." he gestured pointedly to a table for two in the farthest corner from the door. Bilbo snapped his mouth shut, nodding mutely. He didn't trust himself to speak. The man got in line and eyed the menu, his smile fading into an indifferent line. He wanted to slap himself when he realized he was just standing there staring, instead scurrying off quickly to sit at the table.

The man watched his retreat with an entirely too pleased expression.

  
~{-}~

  
Frodo's phone buzzed on the table, interrupting their casual chatter. Sam looked at him quizzically with a mouth full of fries. He checked the name and raised his eyebrows to see Tauriel had texted him. Tauriel and Frodo had exchanged numbers ages ago, but they never really talked besides occasional chats at the cafe. He swiped to open the message, only to see a very large, discreetly taken picture of what appeared to be his Uncle.

No, scratch that; it appeared to be his Uncle _having coffee_ with a man, blushing bright red in the face and, god help him, _smiling shyly at the stranger_.

He didn't realize he had said all this out loud, but apparently he did because Sam choked on his food. He quickly texted back a single word.

_**FB: Date!?** _

The air was pregnant with anticipation as they both waited for the reply.

_**TR: Date.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *RU ~ Rivendell University
> 
> There needs to be more Smaug in fanfiction, especially in Thilbo/Bagginshield stuff. I love how uncomfortable he makes things.


	3. Rumor has it...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hobbiton is a small town, so any news is big news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dear partner gave me a serious bout of inspiration, so I had to keep writing. Have another chapter!

What a strange morning.

Bilbo meandered down the aisles of the grocery store in a bit of a daze, grabbing things here and there in accordance with his list. He felt oddly light on his feet, though his brain was not keeping stride. He wondered if he had accidentally left it at the table he had shared a second breakfast with Mr. Drake--

_" Please, call me Smaug. Such formalities are so very dull..."_

Smaug. The second breakfast he had spent with Smaug.

Smaug had spent the time chatting with Bilbo over his coffee and pastries. It had confused him why Smaug wanted to have breakfast with him, a complete stranger, but his explanation had been reasonable enough.

_" I'm a food critic," he had said after a long, savoring drink of his straight espresso. " I've come to Hobbiton on a bit of a pilgrimage. You see in Erebor, Hobbiton is a well kept secret in the foodie community. It's not even acknowledged until you've proven you're worth your salt, which I most certainly am." He said all this with an air of pride._

_The idea of Hobbiton being of interest to anyone who didn't live there was rather preposterous, but Bilbo smiled anyway._

_" Goodness, I had no idea anyone held us Hobbits in such high regard. Old Gaffer's going to get a kick out of this..." Smaug arched an eyebrow at him._

_" 'Hobbits'?" Bilbo laughed softly, feeling a little shy all of the sudden._

_" Sorry, yes, Hobbits. It's an old word us locals use for ourselves. I couldn't say the origin for sure, but I think it roughly translated into " small folk" in some language or another." The amusement on Smaug's face was obvious._

_" I see. Well, that settles it." Smaug leaned forward, pointing at Bilbo with a long, thin finger. Bilbo was intent not to look at the smirk on Smaug's face, drinking his cappuccino instead. " You will be my guide."_

_" I-I beg your pardon?" her choked out, nearly spitting his drink . Smaug's smile was widening._

_" Hobbiton is known for it's food. It is a right of passage, one could say, for a food critic to come to Hobbiton and sample the local fare. As a rising star in the field, I am here to be properly indoctrinated, but I don't know where to start. I have a feeling that I will find no better guide than you, Bilbo Baggins."_

_Bilbo's face burned and he looked at anything but Smaug. The way he said his name made him feel like Smaug had stroked it on the way out of his mouth._

_" Well, um, thank you, I think, but I don't know I'd be the best for that. I mean, there are loads of people he who would love to spend some time traipsing about the city with a man like yourself. I'm really not so interesting and I'd hate to waste your time..." Smaug cut him off sharply._

_" I will have no other." Bilbo looked up at him and saw the charm melt from his face. The expression had changed to something stern and his eye's had narrowed at him. Bilbo hardly noticed the hand snake across the table to touch his. " Besides, I dare say you've already proven your taste. I haven't had a shot of espresso this smooth in ages..." The warmth was back in an instant and he smiled easily at Bilbo._

_Bilbo didn't know what to say. That sharp turn from suave to cold had unnerved him, but there was no denying Smaug was attractive and he did seem to genuinely need help. Even Bilbo could admit he'd been lying; you'd be hard pressed to find a hobbit willing to spend the time running an outsider like Smaug around town to critique their food._

  
_" Many food critics use your cooking as a point of reference to gauge the food in Erebor." Smaug said, " Granted, you may not have the complex or international fusion cuisines, but the basics are an art here, and a critic who doesn't know the basics is just a blogger with creme fraiche in their fridge."_

_Bilbo hadn't the faintest idea what creme fraiche was. He took a large gulp of his drink._

  
_" Well, the festival season is ending so I will have a bit more time on my hands. About how long are you staying?" Smaug leaned back, popping the last bit of scone in his mouth._

_" I'll be here for about four days. I've a large Gala to attend this coming weekend and I'd prefer to come back with a new perspective on food." He considered the time frame and how many of his favorite restaurants they could hit in that time._

_" Well, with seven meals a day for four days, I think we can hit all the important places." Bilbo nearly jumped out of his own skin when Smaug threw his head back and howled with laughter. The sound made him shiver, the whole cafe stopping everything to stare at them._

_" Good lord, seven meals!" He slapped his hand on the table a few times, " I thought they were joking! Seven meals, who knew?" Bilbo didn't know who "they" was, or whether to feel insulted or endeared so he settled on a small, uncomfortable laugh. Some of the patrons were more decisive in their feelings, sending dirty looks their way. Tauriel was furiously texting on her phone, shooting glances at him from behind a jar of scones._

_Smaug regained control of himself and cleared his throat, adjusting his tie with tears welling at the corners of his eyes. " Do forgive me, Bilbo. I haven't laughed like that in an age." His wide, toothy grin remained, the low rumbling chuckles from his throat returning to make Bilbo's head feel fuzzy. " I do think you are exactly what I need. When can we start our adventure?"_

Bilbo had left the cafe with plans for dinner with Smaug at the local seafood restaurant. He had too much shopping to do, otherwise he had a feeling Smaug would have swept him out the door to the nearest possible eatery.

He was feeling rather flustered. Smaug had stood uncomfortably close until they had shook hands goodbye. The hand was bigger than his own and the grip was almost painful, but he hardly noticed when he realized he could smell the taller man's cologne. It was warm, a little smoky and something else that made him think of metallic things. His face burned for what must have been the thousandth time and he had prayed Smaug wouldn't notice, but the intense stare he'd leveled at him told him he absolutely did.

He spent the whole walk to the craft store cursing himself.

Now with his hands working their magic as he walked, grabbing the things he needed almost out of muscle memory, he had time to think about the new mess he'd gotten himself into. Two hideously uncomfortable tasks in one month. What the hell was wrong with him?

_' At least this one comes with some eye candy...'_

The tiny voice was back, whispering all the little details about Smaug in Bilbo's ear. He may have been lanky, but that grip was absolutely crushing and a twisted little piece of Bilbo loved it. He shook his head. Handsome though he was, Smaug was very clearly just interested in the food of Hobbiton. He'd no reason to sample the locals.

_' Ah, but he looked at you with more hunger than he did the scones...'_

Bugger.

 

~{-}~

 

Hobbiton was a small town through and through. This was particularly true when it came to rumors. Gossip spread like wildfire and Bilbo swore there were people in this place who's soul purpose was to catalog everything that happened all day long and make sure everyone had something scandalous to talk about over supper.

He had noticed it as he walked to the bus stop with his bags of groceries. There was a pair of old biddies sitting on a bench as he walked by and he could swear he heard his name being muttered between the two of them. When he looked at them, they merely stared back with raised noses. He shrugged it off and kept walking.

Sitting at the bus stop had been a whole other kettle of fish.

His bus wasn't set to arrive for another ten minutes, so he settled himself on a bench and waited in silence. A pair of teens he recognized as friend's of Frodo's rode by on their bikes. It took him a few moments to realize they were calling at him.

" Alright, Mr. Baggins! Had no idea you had a taste for suits!" The cackling between the two as they sped off on their bikes was heard even after they were out of sight. Bilbo, pink in the cheeks, stared after them with a mix of confusion and irritation.

" It's not a bloody suit, it's a cardigan. Honestly, having any pride in your appearance these days is cause for mockery..." He muttered, tugging at his outfit a little self consciously.

It wasn't until he was on the bus and nearly home when he realized what had happened. His phone buzzed a few times, and despite not liking the device, he pulled it out and inspected his messages. He nearly swallowed his tongue.

There were at least twenty messages from a whole slew of different people waiting there. He didn't know if his service had cut out, or maybe something terrible had happened, but one glance at a message from Frodo told him all he needed to know.

He was looking at a pair of photos, much to his own horror. One was of him and Smaug at breakfast, and by the view of the scones jar, he had a good idea who had taken it.

The second picture was even more embarrassing. Frodo and Sam with faces splayed in huge grins giving him thumbs up. The text at the bottom had him snapping his phone shut and shoving it deep within his own pockets.

_**FB: He's hot!** _

 

~{-}~

 

He nearly smashed the bread when he slammed his groceries down on the counter, muttering furiously.

" Bloody brilliant! The whole town thinks I'm _dating_!" He said this with such absolute disgust, the herbs in the windowsill nearly wilted. " Yavanna, that is the last time I help anyone ever!" He had already sent a text to Tauriel making sure she knew he was never tipping her again. She seemed unfazed, if the soulless little smiley face she sent back was any indication. Her use of smileys had made him angrier for some reason. He had to stop himself from just snapping the phone in half and running away to live under a rock like the proper hermit everyone thought him to be.

He continued like this well after the groceries were put away, the plants were tended and Myrtle was fed. The cat had been hesitant to come out of hiding with his mood being so very foul, but she had crept out for her lunch as soon as he'd turned away. It wasn't until he was in his office replacing the blades on his exacto knife set that he finally took a deep, calming breath and deflated.

It really didn't matter that Hobbiton was buzzing with misconceptions, he told himself. There were plenty of rumors about him already, living a life like he did. By hobbit standards, he was a right hermit and that alone was reason enough for his whole life to be picked apart and examined by every bored housewife within the city limits. This was just another bit of flesh for the vultures to pick at until someone got married or popped out a kid.

He pushed everything he could from his mind and focused on the task at hand. The last thing he needed to do was slice off a finger worrying about nosy neighbors. His worries, however, were not so easily removed and he found them shifting to the thought of dinner only too soon. He hadn't had dinner with a stranger in quite awhile. Not since he'd last had a blind date. That had been a fucking fiasco to end them all.

He promised himself never again to date anyone who couldn't seem to pick a name and stick with it...or anyone with such an unhealthy attachment to rings.

Bilbo put down the blades and rubbed his eyes with the flats of his palms. It was barely 2pm and he already felt exhausted. He wanted to curl up in his robe with a strong cup of tea and a book, not go to his room and dig through his closet for something to wear.

He kept telling himself this even as he emptied his closet, trying desperately to find something flattering he knew he probably didn't own.

" It's not a bloody date, just pick something!" he scolded, holding a shirt up to himself in the mirror. It was times like these he was horribly aware of the lack of vibrance in his wardrobe and the absolute over abundance of cardigans.

_' Fuddy duddy...'_ he snorted and ignored the little voice. His wardrobe was perfectly respectable for a man his age. _' And yet Smaug dresses so much better.'_ He furrowed his brow at that.

It occurred to him then he didn't actually know how old Smaug was. Something about him had Bilbo assuming he was closer to his age, but now that he considered it, Smaug could pass for a twenty something if not for his tailored suit. Thinking of Smaug running around in basketball shorts and a band t-shirt had him smiling.

" God, the world isn't ready for that level of absurd..." He held up an older baby blue sweater one of his many cousins had knitted him. "... The world isn't ready for me in this sweater either." He tossed the thing on the bed and made a mental note to burn it the next time him and Frodo roasted marshmallows.

It took a great deal more dejected muttering and a significantly larger pile of salvation army donations before Bilbo found something he liked. A crisp white collared shirt, a soft yellow embroidered vest and pressed light brown slacks. His burgundy dinner jacket made a rather smart edition to the ensemble, he thought.

" Oh babe, you're ready to break hearts!" Bilbo absently wondered how many more times people could startle him before he just had a heart attack.

" Yavanna's tap dancing squirrels! Don't sneak up on me like that!" Frodo just smiled at him from the doorway, the stem of a lollipop sticking out of his mouth.

" I mean it, Uncle, you look great! Now all you have to do is tell me everything." His face went from pleased to serious in the blink of an eye. " What's his name? What's he do? How long have you known him? Where is he taking you? Why haven't I met him?"

Bilbo pointedly ignored the tirade of questions, smoothing his jacket and turning to look at himself from the side.

" Uncle, if you don't tell me, someone else will." He felt his eye twitch.

" Yes, your network of spies are working overtime, aren't they?" Frodo had the decency to look a little sheepish, shuffling where he stood.

" She didn't take the picture because I asked her to. I don't think she meant to violate your privacy, either. You have to admit, this is pretty big news. Nobody has seen you with anyone since--" The sharp look Bilbo sent him cut that thought short. " Well, a long time."

" While I appreciate your concern, I can't let this slide. My business is my business, family though we may be. I respect your privacy, so I'd very much like it if you returned the favor." Frodo didn't say anything, but another pointed look from Bilbo had him nodding reluctantly. " Now shoo, I need to finish getting ready. Put the kettle on while you're out there, there's a good lad." Frodo rolled his eyes and turned to leave.

" Yes, yes, wouldn't want you to be late for your big date."

" It's not a date! He just asked me to show him around town..." He knew Frodo wasn't listening, but it made him feel better. It wasn't a date, so he needn't be so worried. It was just like taking Frodo out to eat.

_' Frodo doesn't look that good in a suit.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all have my love, as always. Thank you for reading this far ~<3


	4. Purple Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo smokes occasionally. Frodo worries about as much.

**A COUPLE THINGS BEFORE WE GET STARTED:**  
  
[FANART FOR THIS STORY EXISTS OMG](http://greatdarknoodleking.tumblr.com/post/116488917467/a-gift-for-no-one-by-canttakethecanon-this-scene). You can thank the majestic and wonderful [GreatDarkNoodleKing](http://greatdarknoodleking.tumblr.com)!  
  
Also, yes, I am on tumblr and I love talking to people. I have two accounts; [1 is mostly fangirling about tolkien](http://canttakethecannon.tumblr.com/), and [1 is a ridiculous mismash of everything ever](http://samconbeat.tumblr.com/). Feel free to aproach me at either.

**COMMENCE READING**

**~{-}~**

Frodo loved his Uncle Bilbo. Even before his parents were gone, his Uncle's large and beautiful home was a source of wonder and excitment whenever he would visit. His Uncle himself was his absolute favorite of all his extended family. Telling him stories, letting him run around the tiny forest near the house and a guest room brimming with all the magnificent toys and books he could want. Visiting his Uncle was paradise.

So, when the solemn ten year old appeared on Bilbo's doorstep, one hand clutching a stuffed Oliphant, the other the thin hand of a social worker, he had considered for the first time in weeks that maybe the world wouldn't end as he had thought. Bilbo had wrapped him in a security blanket of warmth and stability without hesitation, and what had been a mystical vacation spot became his new home.

Certainly it wasn't all muffins and roses. Bilbo was a man used to solitude and Frodo a traumatized, grieving child. Their lives took time to mesh, but when they finally did, Frodo could think of no place on this green earth he'd rather be, or anyone he would rather be with. Bag End meant comfort and security, hidden away from the world of uncertainty and change where nothing but the plants in the garden and the print on his bedspread had changed for a decade.

But then, change had a funny way of wheedling itself in where it was least wanted.

Frodo stared blankly at his phone, stroking the sleeping Myrtle on his lap. Netflix was still cycling new episodes of some show he didn't have the mindset to appreciate at the moment. He kept glancing at the time. 9:30.

**Nine.**

**Thirty.**

It was about this time of night his Uncle was supposed to be cuddling Myrtle and reading a book in his lounger. He was supposed to be wrapped in that granny quilt he called a robe, looking entirely too weary with a strong cup of tea in his hand.

But he wasn't. He was out with Smaug.

Still out with Smaug.

The scandalous implications had been a huge source of amusement for Frodo and Sam after the clock passed 7, but as the night wore on and his Uncle didn't reappear, he found himself less amused and more concerned. He hoped his Uncle was just really enjoying his time with this " Smaug Drake" guy.

**_SG: Smaug? WTH kinda name is that?_ **

**_FB: ikr_ **

When Smaug arrived, Bilbo had shooed him off and blocked most of his view in the doorway, but Smaug was too tall for Frodo not to get a look at his face, even though he was peeking as discreetly as he could from down the hall. Red hair. Sharp face. Narrow eyes. His voice had thrown Frodo for a bit of a loop. It was very low, smooth and quiet, but whatever he could hear felt weirdly like it rippled through the air. He suddenly understood why his uncle had been blushing so very darkly in the photo from the cafe.

He had managed to snap a picture of them through the living room window, Smaug opening the door of the car for his Uncle who was looking steadily more flustered. He did it purely on reflex as his brain farted the moment he saw the vehicle they were climbing into.

_**SG: IS THAT A ROLLS-ROYCE WRAITH!?** _

_**FB: YES** _

_**SG: OMG** _

_**SG: ITS RED TOO** _

_**FB: I CANT BREATHE** _

_**SG: NOW HE HAS TO MARRY HIM** _

_**FB: CAN YOU SAY SUGAR DADDY** _

Myrtle judged him harshly from the lounger as he laughed hysterically at his phone.

Sam and Frodo continued discussing his apparently loaded future now that Bilbo had hooked such a big fish, but that eventually lost it's novelty as the hours passed, excitement giving way to impatience and impatience giving way to worry.

He resisted the urge to text his Uncle, not wanting to intrude, but he felt a pang deep within him when 10pm rolled around and there was still no sign of him. Myrtle seemed not to notice his anxiety, rolling leisurely onto her back and batting at his hand. He waved his fingers at her teasingly more out of reflex than any desire to play and let her gnaw on him while he focused his attention on the front door.

" He's fine, right Myrtle?" Myrtle's mouth was too full of one of his knuckles to respond, but her disinterest in worrying reassured him somewhat. " Yes. He'll be home soon, safe and so-Ow! Damnit! Be gentle!"

Myrtle just blinked at him.

Unbeknownst to Frodo, Bilbo had been on his way home for quite some time. It was just being made increasingly more difficult by a very persistent Smaug.

  
**~{-}~**

  
" So he's absolutely caked in mud from head to toe; can barely bloody walk and he just looked at me like I was the problem!" Bilbo laughed, leaning on Smaug to try and stay on the bar stool. He couldn't remember exactly when they had decided to move to the bar thanks to the excellent red wine Smaug had chosen, but the wine continued to flow long after they had settled on the carved mahogany stools. " I ended up hosing him down in the yard!"

Smaug laughed softly, watching him through half lidded eyes. Bilbo knew he was slurring just a bit. He remembered distinctly having three glasses of wine, but he really wasn't sure how many more he'd had since then. He felt so very warm and relaxed, and the company was too good not to enjoy it.

Bilbo was having a marvelous time. Smaug had proven to be a charming and witty dinner partner who really did seem to have a knack for appreciating food. Their dinner at The Trolley had been a pleasure, Smaug having had something of a religious experience with the Swordfish. Dessert of grilled pineapple shortcake had set them both in a mood to indulge and by the time they had finished sharing the citrusy, decadent dessert, he was pleased to see he wasn't the only one in no hurry to end the night.

" Sounds like you have your hands full with, uh, Frito was it?" Bilbo nearly choked on the wine he'd gone for another sip of.

" Frodo," he tried to say with mock offense, but his whole being quickly devolved into wistful adoration, " My darling boy. Greatest pride of mine, he is. I can't hardly believe he'll be leaving for Rivendell so soon." He leaned forward, holding his head in his hands. The sadness prodded at him, but the warmth of the wine washed it away. A hand clapped onto his shoulder and squeezed.

" Perhaps it's just as well." Smaug began, leaning in, " "Uncle" has a nice ring to it, but perhaps it's about time "Uncle" had a little time to just be Bilbo..."

He hadn't thought of it like that. He wasn't really thinking now, as a matter of fact. Smaug's breath was in his ear, smoothing the ripples of thought from his head quite completely. The hand that slid up to the back of his neck and rubbed wasn't helping. Or was. He wasn't clear which.

" Y-You, um, you have..." What did he have?

Nice smelling cologne? Cool hands that felt good on his flushed skin? A little too much wine? The slight scrape of manicured nails had his eyes fluttering open. He had no idea he had closed them.

" A good point?" Smaug supplied helpfully. He nodded to the flirtatious grin spreading across Smaug's face. " I'm full of those, you'll find..." Bilbo broke the spell with a giggle and pushed at Smaug's shoulder halfheartedly.

" You're full of something, that's for sure!" Smaug pulled back, but his hand was twitching ever so lightly. _'That is not a friendly smile...'_ The tiny voice whispered, but he barely heard it, distracted by the hand that kept finding it's way back to him. His knee, his neck, his palm. That hand seemed to like touching him, but Bilbo found he didn't have it in him to mind.

They continued like that for he didn't know how long, glass after glass of wine blurring more than his vision. It wasn't until the cool night air hit his face that it occurred to him he had to go home at some point.

" Oh, this is exactly what I needed!" he breathed out, running both hands through his hair. He was happy to find it didn't feel damp with sweat(heat was a major issue for Bilbo when he drank). Smaug merely smiled and pulled out a solid gold case from his jacket, a quick flick of his wrist revealing it to be a cigarette case. He pulled one free and snapped it shut.

" I hope you don't mind...?" He was already lighting it when he asked, glancing sidelong at Bilbo.

Bilbo smiled at him, before a buried piece of himself wiggled it's way up. Without giving it another thought, he snatched the cigarette from Smaug's lips and took a deep drag off it. The nicotine hit him pretty hard, smoothing over his nerves in tandem with the wine already pumping through him. He didn't smoke often anymore, smoking from a pipe out in the garden once a week the closest he ever got to the habit, but he still had his knack for smoke rings. In a small puff, he let loose a perfect, beautiful smoke ring out into the night air.

Smaug stared at him. Bilbo grinned.

" Don't mind in the slightest." He handed the cigarette back to Smaug, who took it carefully without breaking eye contact.

If Bilbo thought back to this moment later, he'd probably have recognized that this was the moment he had essentially given Smaug the green light. This was the moment where he gave Smaug permission to make his life incredibly uncomfortable, but at this moment, all he could think about was the after taste of tobacco in his mouth.

" SO, how are we getting home?" He realized he was in no fit state to drive and he doubted Smaug was doing much better, even though the man was clearly a master of holding it together. Said master cleared his throat.

" A cab should be here soon." Bilbo mouthed an "Oh" and busied himself with not wobbling where he stood. Silence reigned over them, Smaug eyeing him while Bilbo looked at just about anything but his date.

_' Since when is this a date?'_ Bilbo frowned at the muffled voice. _' I thought you were just showing him around? Isn't that what you told Frodo? Just doing him a favor?'_

" Is this a date?" Bilbo blurted out, turning with no small amount of effort to face Smaug.

Smaug, to his credit, didn't react at first. He finished his cigarette and snuffed it's little embers out on the sidewalk with the heel of his finely polished shoes. Bilbo absently noticed the laces had gold tips.

" I think the only thing that can decide that, Mr. Baggins," Smaug said carefully, turning to face the slightly wobbling man, who felt oddly embarrassed to be caught admiring the man's shoes, " is whether or not I get to kiss you before you get in the cab."

  
**~{-}~**

  
Bilbo had never been the type to be forward. His whole life was built around passive aggressive behavior thanks to his father and the Baggins clan as a whole. His mother, a Took to her very core, found the whole idea of passive aggressive not only dull, but comically illogical.

_" Say what you mean and mean what you say, or get out of my face."_ she had said one day, elbow deep in a turkey she was begrudgingly preparing at the crack of dawn for the thanksgiving feast. It was one of those odd memories he had retained through his early childhood, the distinct furrow in her brow and the floral print of her dirty apron sticking out to him more clearly than even her words. It was a memory, like all memories of his mother, that scraped bitterly against his chest whenever it arrived.

Why he was thinking of his mother while being roughly groped in the back of a cab was something he bet Freud had something to say about.

Smaug tasted like cigarettes and wine, dredging a warm, traitorous little piece of himself up from deep within his belly. Bilbo had absolutely no control over the situation, the flavor being practically forced into him with Smaug's quick and demanding tongue.

_' Sin.'_ the little voice muttered wistfully. _' He tastes like sin.'_

It wasn't wrong.

Degrading, embarrassing little noises slipped out of him every time Smaug gripped him, ground against him, bit his lip. Gods have mercy, he sounded like a teenage girl! Smaug himself didn't seem to mind in the slightest, his hands(among other things) getting rougher with every noise. Deep within his mind, his delicate sensibilities protested at being pressed against the dirty back seat of a cab in his best dinner jacket, but he reasoned that if Smaug in his slick, tailored suit could stand being pressed against a small, middle aged "fuddy duddy" on the exact same seat, he could deal with it.

" About done back there?"

The absolute horror that ripped through him when the gravelly voice of the cabby reached his ears had him shoving at Smaug with all his strength. This wasn't actually that much as it just barely broke their kiss. Could you even call it a kiss? It was like Smaug had been eating him.

...and he had loved it.

Smaug was breathing heavily, glaring daggers at the cabby from his compromised position between Bilbo's legs. The cabby wasn't even looking at them directly, peering at them with disinterest through the rear view mirror.

" Been sitting here for a bit. The meter's getting pretty high." the tone of the cabby was as if he had noticed the weather. Bilbo knew his face was burning darker than the color of Smaug's doctored hair.

_' Is he growling? Oh, heavens above, he's growling!'_ the little voice murmured excitedly as the taller man ever so slowly pushed himself off of Bilbo. Once he had finished trying to set the cabby on fire with a look, his gaze fell below him once more. He must have been quite a sight. Disheveled, blushing, likely bruised. Smaug licked his lips. Bilbo swallowed thickly.

It was an awkward thing, trying to climb out of the cab, tugging and smoothing their clothes as they did. Smaug made no move to help him scramble out, which was just as well. Bilbo was still not exactly sure when he had ended up on his back with Smaug's tongue down his throat, so maybe avoiding more contact was the wiser choice. He stumbled free of the taxi and tried to straiten his poor bow tie, only to realize it was totally undone and hanging freely around his neck, several buttons from his shirt and all the buttons of his vest undone as well.

He ran a hand over his burning face. Since when did he get half undressed and not know about it?

" I guess this was a date." Smaug said cooly. Bilbo peeked out from behind his fingers at the man he'd just been furiously molesting. The cabby's voice had been like cold water and even though he was still thrumming with alcohol, his swimming vision zeroed in on Smaug like he was looking through a microscope.

He had smoothed down his hair, but it had clearly been mussed in their...tryst. As had most of his lovely suit, though he'd made no move to rebutton his shirt, or redo his tie. He was smoking again, one hand in his pocket and eyes examining Bilbo carefully. The thin lips around the cigarette were swollen.

_' At least you're not the only one walking away a little worse for wear.'_

" I-I guess it was. Um...I..." His mouth merely hung open. He honestly had no idea what to say, but he was lucky. Smaug loved to hear himself talk.

" You," He began, strolling over to invade his space once more, but thankfully making no move to touch him. Bilbo was not sure what would happen if those hands reached for him again. " are going to be a fantastic waste of time, Bilbo Baggins..." He did it again. Stroking his name with that wicked, velvety tongue. He hardly registered the sentence and found himself leaning in. Even after rolling around a dirty back seat and rubbing himself against a middle aged nobody, Smaug still smelled so good...

" I'll be in touch." Smoke escaped his nostrils and Smaug flicked the cigarette out into the night, turning sharply on his heel and sliding back into the cab.

Bilbo hardly started to breathe again before the cab was gone.

  
**~{-}~**

  
Frodo poked at the poached eggs on his plate, his eyes focused sternly down the hall. The sounds of retching drifted from the bathroom.

He had fallen asleep on the couch waiting for his dear Uncle to come home. He had apparently come home really late, as Frodo distinctly remembered watching the clock until sleep finally took him. Sometime after eleven. He had woken with Myrtle and a quilt draped across him, but no other sign of movement in the house.

Until about ten minutes ago.

**_FB: Uncles puking_ **

**_SG: Whut_ **

**_FB: Uncle Bilbo is blowing chunks in our bathroom_ **

**_SG: O wow did he get wasted last night?_ **

**_FB: No idea. Didn't see/hear him come in. Fell asleep._ **

**_SG: Damn_ **

He really didn't know how to feel. He was happy his Uncle was home safe, but apparently not being sound had him worried again. He could count on one hand the amount of times his Uncle had gotten sick. He did say they were going to eat at The Trolley, though, and they did have a great bar.

Under the guise of bringing his poor Uncle a cool wet cloth, he slowly approached the bathroom to try and get some answers.

" Uncle?" He opened the door when no response came and found a sight he wasn't sure he had ever seen before.

Bilbo was clutching the toilet like a long lost lover, glistening with a sheen of sweat over his horribly pale face. He didn't have a shirt on and the pudge of his stomach kept contracting in what must have been painful twitches. He didn't look at Frodo, holding his face over the bowl as his nose and mouth continued to drip. The fact that he was still wearing his black dress socks and what were now rumpled slacks told him his Uncle had probably just flopped down as soon as he got home.

Frodo felt his own stomach churn.

" Yavanna's purple roses..." He padded over and bent down to press the washcloth to Bilbo's forehead. Bilbo jerked suddenly, as if coming out of a trance and instinctively gripped at his nephews sweatpants.

" Gu-huh-Frodo..." Frodo found his hands stroking through his uncle's hair much the same way he would stroke his own black locks when he had been ill as a child. " Go...Go to the kitchen an-oh--!" His whole body was forced up on it's knees once again to empty his stomach further. Frodo looked away and held his breath. He never handled seeing others vomit well.

When his Uncle relaxed again, his hand reached up and took the cloth from him. Frodo chanced a glance at him, but found it wasn't the sickness that made his stomach twist. There were bruises along his Uncle's arms. A lot of them.

Bilbo wiped his face and seemed to be focusing on breathing, eyes shut and head lolling against the seat. It was a long while before he chanced speaking. He had to speak between gasps for air.

" Go to the kitchen...And throw out...all the wine..." Frodo snorted a laugh in spite of himself, his Uncles eyes cracking open and the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. " No more wine... Ever." Frodo crossed his arms.

" So I'm guessing the date went well? Oh, sorry, the 'critiquing'?" His fingers flexed in air quotes around the last word. Bilbo's face fell, his eyes squeezing shut again. Frodo frowned.

" It...It was a date." He said simply, but the look on his face suggested that wasn't a good thing. Frodo shifted uncomfortably. " I didn't know until I was... Well, not fit to drive." A mirthless laugh was pushed out of his mouth.

" Was everything ok?" Frodo asked cautiously. He kept flitting his eyes to the bruises, but his Uncle didn't seem to notice.

" Oh yeah... Just fine. A little..." He pinched the bridge of his nose, "...blurry. I probably made a fool of myself. Can't remember all that much..." Frodo nodded, though his brow was furrowed and already a plan was forming. He didn't like the purple flesh before him. They weren't like those cute, red love bites some of his friend's sported after a date on their necks. They were large and angry, deeply purple and dotting all up and down his arms, particularly grouped just below his shoulders. He was going to have to check this "Smaug" out. It may have been a pointed joke, but a "Network of Spies" wasn't far from the truth. He had some calls to make.

Despite the sense of urgency that his plan instilled in him, he stayed with his Uncle for awhile, sliding down the wall to just keep the poor man company as he expelled anything that may be left in him. Bilbo didn't say much, simply repeating that everything was blurry and hard to piece together if Frodo questioned him.

In truth, Bilbo remembered everything. He refused to think on any of it, knowing his face would burn the moment he let the memories settle behind his eyes.

Even through the bile, he could still taste a hint of tobacco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yes, HAPPY ANNIVERSARY BAGGINSHIELD. I am totally aware of the date and it's significance and will be celebrating accordingly on my regular and shipping tumblr accounts, but I felt like this was a good day for this chapter because Smaugbo doesn't get a lot of support and I think they'll need it today.


	5. Ablaze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo lets his life burn just so he can stare at the flames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, this got way out of hand way fast. As you may have noticed, the rating has changed. It's not E, yet, but a hard M for sure. The tags and summary are changing as well as this story encompasses a whole lot more than I thought it would. We'll eventually be getting down and dirty into Mid-life crisis', red flag relationships and a LOT of separation anxiety. Hold on to the seat of your pants!
> 
> THERE IS LIGHT SMUT IN THIS CHAPTER. Sorry for those of you hoping things wouldn't get too heated, ahahahahaha I'm sorry I'm just much too invested in the fire references today.

Smaug Drake was an interesting man.

If he heard you mention this sentiment, he'd commend you on your good taste and promptly suggest you work on dressing a bit better so as to fit in with a higher caliber of person. Like him, for example.

Yes, _"interesting"_ was a good, polite word for him.

But to Bilbo Baggins, he was more than that.

He was long nights out at fancy restaurants and good food meant for special occasions. He was the taste of wine on your tongue and the smell of smoke on the night air. He was hungry kisses and a firm grip in inappropriate places at exactly the right time.

He was also a _gigantic_ monkey wrench right into the gears of Bilbo's life.

Frodo was worried. He knew it just from the look on the young man's face when he'd _stumble_ into the foyer well past a respectable hour, only to _oversleep_ well past a respectable hour the next day. He'd spend maybe a good 45 minutes home before he scrambled out the door and into Smaug's car yet again. He supposed Frodo was right to be worried. Bilbo had never acted like this before.

But maybe that was why he didn't want to stop?

His whole life had been a tidy routine of handling responsibilities, putting all yearnings for adventure and excitement aside for the "greater good". His father had purposefully drilled the routine into him, made him swear never to abandon what he'd deemed important. What his _father_ had deemed important. Like dusting the mantle every afternoon. Taking tea at 11:30. Keeping his grass tidier than all his neighbors.

Something angry tightened in his chest when he thought about it now.

He would only have four days with Smaug, he knew, but the effects were instantaneous. A smug sort of glee welled up in him when he looked at the mantle and saw the dust gathering on the second day. He slept well past 11 on the third, skipping tea and lunch in one foul swoop. By the time the fourth day rolled around, his yard needed a good weed treatment and he simply refused to give it, a cheerful smile on his face when he'd kicked the weed repellent back under the work bench in the garage.

Things were burning around him. He thought he had been strong willed. His sensibilities were unwavering, his moral obligation fierce, his pride in all the pristine order he'd surrounded himself with monumental. And yet, Smaug had swooped in and set the world on fire.

And Bilbo relished it.

On the fourth night of their "business affair", after spending the day wandering in and out of the local eateries down a particularly infamous strip, he began to wonder if there might be another word better fitting to Smaug than "interesting". The answer was quite clear to him.

He didn't say it, of course. He was a sensible man, even while being ground into the brick behind the local tavern, a hand clapped over his mouth and a whole lot going on below his waist. _Sensible_.

" Mmmffm!"

Yeah, that's the word.

Smaug laughed low in his ear, grabbing a handful of his backside to angle their hips together just a little bit better.

" What was that, Mr. Baggins?" The vicious teasing in his voice was one of many things making him shiver right now. Just about everything except the cold night air was making him shiver, honestly...

" Mmm. Ffffmmm!" he grit out. He wasn't actually sure what he was trying to say, but it didn't matter. Smaug wouldn't let him get it out either way. He just wanted to play with him.

_' Seems like that's all he ever wants...'_ The little voice was barely a whisper in his mind when he was with Smaug. Nothing else mattered when his hands, mouth and something decidedly inappropriate were pressed against him.

" I think you said harder...Is that right? Harder?" Smaug turned Bilbo's face to look at him, eyes narrowed to slits and lips stretched into a terrible grin. Bilbo's own vision was swimming, though his eyes watering had nothing to do with sadness. He didn't bother trying to respond vocally. Smaug could get an agreement to anything out of him right now and harder was pretty low on his list of things to fight. He nodded. " Good."

Positions were shifted and Smaug's hands were down the front of his trousers, fumbling with the button there. It was open and the zipper undone before Bilbo could get his hands to unlatch from the shoulders he could feel flexing just under a silken white shirt. Their bodies were pressed flush together once again, Smaug's own pants undone and mercy they might as well have not been wearing underwear. He couldn't keep the low moan against Smaug's fingers inside.

" Such a funny little man..." Smaug's lips were pressed to his ear, making him shudder harder. " All stiff and polite. Would never guess you'd like being dry humped into a wall in an alley... Guess I'm just that good..." Bilbo wasn't really listening. Smaug had muttered everything in his ears the past few days at one point or another. He was far to focused on the pressure building in his lower half to pay attention to the filthy words. " Should take you home right now...Make you wait for it, then see how "stiff" you can really get before you explode..." Strike that. He heard that loud and clear. His mind instantly filled with images to match.

Going home with Smaug. Being at his mercy in an unfamiliar hotel. Being stripped. Pressing _skin to skin_...

He clung to the taller man, spasming hard and whimpering into the hand still pressed to his mouth. His eyes were screwed shut, but the stars still spread over his vision as something wet and hot coated the inside of his underwear.

He didn't get a moment to breathe. Smaug's pace picked up erratically, taking his cue to work him harder. Using the slightly dampened hand he'd been using on Bilbo's mouth, he gripped a fistful of his hair and tilted his head back for a bruising kiss. Bilbo's legs wanted to give out from under him, his body intensely over sensitized from the orgasm to the point of the grinding being almost painful, but he kept his vice grip on Smaugs shoulders to keep himself up. He needed to hear Smaug cum against him. Hearing it the night before wasn't enough.

Smaug was grunting through gritted teeth, eyes closed and face hovering just over Bilbo's. Bilbo's hand released it's grip on the tense shoulders and slid down his side, pushing in between them to rub hard against Smaug's barely covered dick.

" Fuck...!" The larger mans whole body stuttered, teeth grinding and hand pulling his hair hard as he came.

The alley went silent.

They stood there for a few moments, slumped against the wall, breathing heavily. Bilbo's eyes were shut, but he felt Smaug's hand let go of him and snake down to dig in his jacket pocket. A snap, a sigh and Smaug pulled himself back.

For a man with his pants mostly undone, hair everywhere and what was a very clear wet spot growing across his underwear,(of _course_ they were red...) he looked surprisingly unmoved. He lit up the cigarette he had pulled out and took a long puff.

Surveying himself Bilbo knew was a poor idea, but he looked down anyways, finding most of his shirt open, pants undone with his own matching wet spot glaring up at him. He wasn't quite to the point where his hands would follow instructions, so he took a deep breath and let his head roll back to rest against the wall.

Yes, _interesting_ was not a good enough word for Smaug.

" Much as I like seeing you like this, you might want to do something about yourself." The hand holding the cigarette gestured vaguely at him. " The way you made the locals sound, them finding Bilbo Baggins ruined against a wall in an alley with a cum stain on his crotch would not go over well." His tone was bored, his gaze disinterested and focusing down towards the street.

Bilbo huffed out a small laugh and took his advice, pulling himself back together. There wasn't much he could do about the wet spot, but when buttoned back up, his sweater hung just low enough he could probably avoid attention even if it soaked through his pants. He kept tugging at it's front self consciously, though. Smaug looked immaculate as always, he noted with no small amount of jealousy. By the time he'd tucked everything back in, buttoned everything back up and smoothed down his hair, you wouldn't have believed he just got off in an alley.

They walked out to the street together in silence, Bilbo's free hand smoothing at his thoroughly ruined hair. It was particularly bad right at the knape of his neck where his date had pulled the most. He must have pulled it so hard it somehow got longer...

The car came into view and he'd be lying if he said he hadn't practically run to it, clambering in with all the grace he could with only one free hand and the awkward feeling in his pants. He knew there was shame on his face and the smell of two men sweating and rubbing eachother in an alley wasn't something that just dissipated. Anyone who walked by and didn't have a bad cold would have put two and two together. Or at least Bilbo believed so. He might as well have " Just had sex" stamped on his forehead in red ink.

Smaug slid into the drivers seat, the beautiful car starting with a mighty rumble before settling to a low purr as it pulled from the parking lot and headed to his home. The silence seemed to get heavier the closer to home he got, the nerves in Bilbo's head urging him to speak. He kept his mouth shut. He knew Smaug hated small talk. Instead, he focused on the street lamps passing by and twitched his nose nervously.

As luck would have it, he didn't need to say anything for the silence to go away.

" Are you busy this weekend?"

Considering what they had been up to for the past four days, it wasn't a surprising question, but Bilbo was still a little taken aback by it. It took an expectant glance from Smaug for him to remember he had to answer.

" Oh, um, well...I don't believe I have any plans on Saturday. Sunday is usually the day I chat with all those who've commissioned me to give them an update, but I only have one waiting, so I'll probably jus-"

" I didn't ask for an itinerary." Bilbo's mouth snapped shut, a blush blooming across his face. Smaug also hated rambling, so of course he jumped right to the point. " I'm going back to Erebor tomorrow. Come with me."

This time Bilbo's jaw nearly unhinged itself. A smirk spread over Smaug's face at his reaction.

" There is a gala on Saturday. Terribly boring stuff, really, but you could use a little more culture and I could use a date that isn't climbing any social ladders." Bilbo managed to close his mouth at some point, but he might as well have left his jaw on the floor. Smaug was inviting him to Erebor. To a formal event in Erebor. With Smaug. As his _date_.

_' He didn't invite you, he **told** you you are going.'_ That little voice was getting louder again, but not enough for him to pay attention.

Smaug had mentioned it a few times now; some artistic thing for charity. A place for important people to show off. His mind whirred, processing the information incredibly slowly. Slow enough for another irritated glance to be shot his way.

" I'd love to!" He blurted before Smaug could scold him again. " Yes, that sounds like fun." He added a little less eagerly, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at himself.

He was excited, though. Smaug had unknowingly given him a little bit of hope for whatever the mess they were in was. He didn't say it, couldn't stand the idea of opening himself up like that, but he liked Smaug a great deal already and rather preferred their escapades not end at dinner and rutting in an odd place... _again_. His blush burned hot all the way up to the tips of his ears at the thought of Smaug making some kind of formal move on him. One that resounded more like flowers or holding hands, rather than hickies and "wet spots"...

_Yavanna save him_.

" Good. You'll be with me through the weekend so pack accordingly. The event is black tie. I recommend you get a suit fitted. You're too scrawny to rent and still look decent, and I'll not have anyone looking cheap on my arm."

They pulled up in front of Bag End, the only house on the street with the windows still lit. Bilbo peeked over at Smaug a little shyly.

" Well... We've had a couple meals, had a couple...excursions. You've invited me to something formal; Does this mean I get a goodnight kiss?" He may have looked shy and tentative but he felt bold and scandalous asking so bluntly for a kiss. He'd remember how absurd that was later and have a good round of embarrassed groaning at his own expense.

Smaug gave him a strange look, before a small snort of laughter escaped him.

" Far be it from me to refuse a pretty face..." His hand reached out, drawing Bilbo closer to lock lips. It was much softer than the alley had been, but nothing Smaug did was every truly gentle. His lips were nipped at, his tongue pushed back and the grip on his face tightened before they finally parted. Bilbo noted a bit ruefully that he was the only one panting in the car.

" I will pick you up tomorrow evening." Smaug pulled back and Bilbo left the car, licking his abused lips while he watched it drive off.

" Another successful date...or something in that ballpark." He muttered to himself, making his way to the door. He took his shoes off on the door step, hoping his socks would cushion his footsteps enough as not to wake his hopefully sleeping nephew. What a farce. A _forty year old man_ sneaking into his own home so as not to get scolded by the nephew half his age...

Carefully, he crept into the house, shutting the front door soundlessly behind him.

The sticky, steadily crusting mess in his pants had him tiptoeing strait for the bathroom. A quick glance into the living room revealed Frodo was indeed asleep on the couch again, Myrtle eyeing him curiously from her spot on his lap. He'd cover the boy up and turn out the lights later. First he needed to get clean.

  
**~{-}~**

  
With a clean body, a dark house and a tucked in nephew all accounted for, Bilbo tip toed to his room. His body was exhausted, but his mind raced circles around itself. He was going to Erebor with Smaug. _Erebor_. One of the biggest cities in the east, known for it's smooth blend of modern marvels and historic landmarks. The thought of the museums alone was enough to have him bouncing in his bed.

How long had it been since he'd traveled? Really traveled? Just for fun? Gods, he didn't even remember... And he was going with a partner. A companion...

_' A lover?'_ his mind whispered, returning loud and clear without any demanding hands to drive it off. He sniffed.

" Not a lover. Not yet." he muttered, not wanting to deal with the odd clench in his chest.

_' But maybe soon? After the gala?'_ Maybe. He had honestly expected Smaug to tell him right there in the car that this was it, that he'd be leaving tomorrow and so long, thanks for the ride! A part of him had been dreading it, would have bet money Smaug would be gone in a whirl of fine cuisine and dangerous wine, back to the hustle and bustle he was used to for someone as sleek and luxurious as his car to spend his time with.

But that's not what had happened. Now he was planning to travel with Smaug. To leave his safe and comfortable home for some place large and unknown. To be shown off at some stuffy party, occupying space on Smaug's arm like they were a proper couple...

There had never been promises, not even a real discussion of what was going on between them, but Bilbo had rolled with it. Had loved just doing things for a change, no great thought and struggle before the action. It was like the leash he'd wound too tightly around himself was going lax, previously held taught by the expectations of others. Granted, it felt a little like the collar was still there. Sometimes it felt more like Smaug was leading him around on the leash rather than freeing him from it, but it was better than what it had been before.

Suddenly, it popped into his head.

All at once his fingers itched and the nagging feelings of inspiration swept over his mind. He threw back the covers and clicked on his lamp, digging through the nightstand drawer for a pencil and sketch pad.

_What would you give to a lover to show how much you loved them?_

Seems he'd already given Smaug something without ever realizing it. Now he just had to get it on paper...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep. For those of you wondering, this will still eventually end in bagginshield, but I'm not a big fan of "temporary relationships immediately swept under the rug as soon as other main character waltz's in". Smaug will be lingering in this story as he never seemed like the type to just "let go". Thorin will be making his first appearance in the next two chapters, but Frodo isn't going to let his Uncle be whisked away without a fight.


End file.
